by Lexi Post
Sas looked over his shoulder at Timber, who quickly rose.
“I need to step out for a moment.” He practically ran for the door, grabbing up his coat on the way out.
She returned her attention to Sas. “Months?” Her voice ended on a squeak.
He closed the stove door and rose slowly. Pulling the chair next to the bed, he sat, which just scared her that much more.
“Your feet will recover much sooner. Your boots were of good quality and it was only after you took them off that the damage was done, but your hands…”
Even as he trailed off, her hands seemed to burn again. Tears gathered in her eyes. “Will I lose my hands?” Her question was barely a whisper.
“I’m here to make sure that doesn’t happen.”
Oh God. Oh God. “But a hospital would be better, right? They have equipment and, and stuff that will save them, right?”
He still wouldn’t look at her. Instead, he stared at her hand as it lay on the quilt. “They may be able to perform other procedures, but you wouldn’t make it to the hospital in your condition.”
Finally, her tears overflowed and trailed down her cheeks. “I don’t want to lose my hands.” She stared down at the quilt, unable to pull herself out of her own sorrow.
Sas lifted her chin with his finger.
She blinked at the blurriness in her eyes as she stared into his dark gaze. The intensity despite the lack of clarity, froze her. The whites of his eyes appeared slightly yellow through her tears.
“I will not let that happen. Do you understand?”
Whether it was his gaze or his tone of voice, something inside her believed him for a few seconds before doubt crept up again. “But what if you can—” His finger on her lips both surprised her and silenced her.
“I will find a way. If I must, I will make you healthy enough to travel and carry you to a town that has a plane that can bring you to a hospital.”
Her tears slowed and as she nodded, he dropped his finger and looked away.
She wanted to force him to face her again, but she couldn’t even lift her hand. Before she could say anything, he’d risen and moved to the wood stove.
He’d looked right at her, if only for a few seconds, which meant he had it in him to meet her gaze. Maybe she could help him in turn to conquer his shyness. His gaze had been so intense and so were his feelings.
Her heart finally slowed. He was determined to see her healthy again. She was one lucky lady. Only one question remained for her.
Why?
CHAPTER SIX
He strode outside and found Timber emerging from the woods.
“I’m sorry, Sas. I didn’t realize you hadn’t explained how bad her frostbite is. I assumed when you asked about pain killers that it was pretty bad.”
“It is. She has reason to fear losing parts of her hands. I won’t know how severe until blisters start breaking. I’ve changed the bandages twice, lightly washing her hands, but we both know gangrene can still occur and if the nerve damage is too great…”
Timber nodded. “That blistering is another hell she’ll have to go through. Have you warned her about that?”
He moved farther away from the cabin. Though her hearing wasn’t as good as his, having recently been blinded, he had no doubt hers had sharpened. “I’m waiting for her to be healthier in other ways, including mentally. She is still realizing the near miss she had with death. I planned to explain things a bit at a time. Emotional upheaval won’t help her heal.”
“Man, I’m sorry.” Timber bowed his head.
He laid a hand on the older man’s shoulder. “You didn’t know. Your aid in procuring pain medicine will be compensation enough.”
Timber looked at him and grinned. “Happy to help. I have some at my place which will help her now, after I retrieve it. I was going in to Savik one last time before winter and stopped over to see if you needed anything, but I can delay that.” Timber looked at the sky and the thickening clouds. “I think.”
“I’ll fetch the pain medicine from your home.” He could travel much faster than Timber.
“You really want to leave her alone for two days. I know you travel faster than me, but it takes me a full day to reach you.”
He shook his head. “No. You’ll have dinner with us and when she falls asleep, I’ll run to your cabin and come back here while you stay with her.”
Timber sat on a boulder that was only half covered in snow. “That’s the best idea yet. You’re a lot younger than I am, and I’ll take good care of your Angel.”
His heart warmed at Timber’s phrase. “Good.” He looked up at the sun, which was behind the clouds making it appear like twilight. “We have much time yet until our next meal. You can help me with the projects I need to finish.”
Despite his age, Timber jumped to his feet. “Tell me where to start.”
“I’ll retrieve the tools we need.” He strode back into the house to find Angel not only awake, but alert.
“Is Timber coming back in or did he leave? Are you done outside? I wish there was something I could do.”
Though he dared not look at her face, her tone of voice made it clear she was already becoming bored. He hated to disappoint her. He could send Timber in to talk with her, but a part of him didn’t like sharing her, even if she wasn’t his mate. It was wrong and selfish, and he tried to overcome the emotion, but it wouldn’t be tamped down.
He pulled out the items he needed from his tool corner, mainly the chainsaw and gas can. “Timber is going to help me take down a few trees. Since I’m keeping it warmer in here, I will need a few more cords of wood for winter and with two of us, it will minimize my time out of the cabin.”
“Oh, that does make sense.”
Though she understood, her disappointment bothered him. He turned around and his gaze fell on his bookshelves. “Would you like to read?”
“I would love to.” Her excitement over his suggestion was reassuring.
He stepped up to his selection and looked for something more modern since she had mentioned her familiarity with the classics was limited. He pulled two books from the shelves, knowing exactly where each was located and what he wanted to offer. He brought them over to show them to her.
She read the covers. “The Three Musketeers and Gone with the Wind. I didn’t realize these were such long books.”
“I thought since you wished to occupy your time alone, a long book would be appropriate. This one,” he held up Gone with the Wind, “is about overcoming adversity and this one is about adventure.” He held up The Three Musketeers.
She moved her gaze from the books to his face, and he quickly looked at the books. “I’ve heard of both of these, but they were never explained in quite the way you did. I’ll tackle The Three Musketeers first because I haven’t seen a movie of that one, while the other comes on television a lot.”
He had a little knowledge about television and movies, but only from what Timber had told him. It didn’t sound like it would be worth his time, so he didn’t give her reasoning another thought. Instead, he gently lay the old, hard bound book open on her lap.
“Shoot, this won’t work. I can’t turn the pages.” Her shoulders slumped in defeat and she closed her eyes.
He was in a quandary about what to do. “Let me bring this equipment outside so Timber can begin cutting. I’ll be back.” He turned, picked up the chainsaw and gas can and left.
Timber sat on the porch waiting. “I thought you’d changed your mind about working. I know I would if I had such pleasant company to talk to.”
Irritation at Timber’s remark hit him unexpectedly. He squelched the unreasonable emotion. “There will be time for that over the winter months.” He grabbed up his axe from the side of the cabin and walked back to the porch.
“Right.” Timber chuckled. “You’ll have to tell me how that goes, you being such a talker and all.”
He jerked his head toward the trees he wanted to cut. “We have work to do. I don’t have
to worry about talking. I can listen.” Actually, he could listen to her voice all day, if she wouldn’t ask him questions about himself.
“I get it. Shut up and help.”
Timber’s footsteps behind him assured him the man followed. He set down the chainsaw and gas on a patch of pine needles not covered by snow and strode into the grove. Without a word, he walked to each tree he wanted to fell and carved an X in it with the head of the axe.
“Whoa, you’re feeling ambitious today.”
Timber’s observation didn’t deter him as he continued to mark the trees. Most were dead, others alive, all were evergreen. The live ones they’d stack on the side so he could choose a log to mix with those already dried if he had to. Brand new wood alone wouldn’t heat the cabin and would cause problems with his vent pipe.
After marking at least a dozen trees, he retraced his steps.
Timber’s eyes were wide. “You sure you need all this? I don’t even think Sturge has as much cut wood as you will, and he has a wife and a little one to keep warm. And a bigger cabin.”
“If I was alone this winter, I’d already have enough, but I’m taking no chances.” He dropped the axe and picked up the gas can to fill the chainsaw. “Which would you like, the saw or the axe?”
“Is that a trick question? I know you plan to cut up the downed trees with that axe while I fell the next ones.” The older man’s feet came into sight next to the chainsaw. “They don’t call me Timber for nothing.”
He silently agreed, mildly amused by the older man. Lifting the chainsaw, he handed it to him. “You can begin. I need to create something for Angel, then I’ll start on the trees you have downed.”
“Whatever you say, Sas.” Timber walked through the trees to the farthest from them and started up the chainsaw. “Timber!”
Shaking his head, he strode back toward the cabin. There had to be a way to help Angel turn the pages of the book. Animals who didn’t have fingers were able to maneuver things so they could survive. Even bears were able to scoop honey with their giant paws. Honey.
As the idea formed, he headed for the closest birch tree. After breaking off a switch about a foot long, he used his pocket knife to peel off the bark and trim it up. Then he strode to the northside of his cabin.
Between the cave wall and the side of his home, he crouched down and scraped away the moist dirt. Beneath, was a wet dark clay. He dug deeper with his knife until he found what he sought. Scooping the light gray clay up with his knife, he balled it onto the end of the switch.
It seemed very delicate, but so was Angel. Excited to see if it would work, he ran up the steps and walked inside.
Angel smiled tentatively at him. “I finished these two pages.”
He kept his gaze lowered and sat in the chair near the bed. “Open your mouth.”
“Huh? Why?”
“I’ve created a tool you can use to turn the pages, but you’ll have to use your mouth.”
She looked at the switch in his hand then opened her mouth hesitantly.
Carefully, he placed the clean end between her lips. “Bite down. It’s just a bigger piece of birch then the ones I give you to chew on to clean your teeth.” Once she had it firmly between her teeth, he gave her instructions. “At the end is a piece of clay which should enable you to move the page to the side, turning it over. Try it.”
She stared at the book then widened her eyes, smiling around the stick. Bending her head forward, she set the clay end against the edge of page two and pushed toward page one. When she lifted the stick away, the page fell into place, allowing her to read page three.
Angel laughed. “I did it! Oh.” Her excitement at her success was short lived as her exclamation sent the stick tumbling into her lap.
He found it amusing that while she read, she wouldn’t be able to speak, but at her disappointed look, he took pity on her. “If you can use it this way while I’m working outside, then later I’ll find a way to hook the tool around your ears, so you can talk and not lose it completely.”
Her eyes shone with gratefulness before he averted his gaze. “Thank you. I feel so helpless and demanding. I’m not used to this.”
“No one would be. You’re coping very well. Now, I need to cut more wood before it grows dark. Is there anything else you’d like to say before I place the stick back in your mouth?”
“Yes, but it can wait until tonight. Go on and get your work done. I’ll read about D’Artagnan.”
He didn’t respond, anxious to make progress on more wood. Setting the stick between her lips again, he noticed that they had already begun to heal. At least that would be one less place that caused her pain.
When she had a firm hold of the birch, he rose and left, not wanting to say anything in case she felt the need to answer him. Striding toward the grove of trees where he’d left Timber, he heard the man’s telltale call just before the chainsaw started up again.
Angela woke at the sound of footsteps outside the door. For a moment, she was disoriented at the darkness around her. Reaching for the light beside her bed, she yelled. Crap, that hurt. She closed her eyes as burning pain engulfed her hand.
Unfortunately, it reminded her exactly of where she was and why. Squeezing her eyes against the onslaught of tears, she tried to think of the snow outside, the ice-cold waters of the ocean and the nippiness in the air.
Huh? She blinked her eyes open and sniffed. It was still twilight out, yet the cabin seemed cold. How could that be? Sas couldn’t have been gone that long.
The door opened and he strode in. It was darker inside than outside, so she couldn’t see his features, but by his pause then sudden race to the stove, she had the feeling she wasn’t imagining the chill.
“Timber, light the lantern.” Sas’ husky voice was thrown over his shoulder as he opened the stove door and threw in a log. Light shone on his face as the wood caught.
She sucked in her breath as the scar around his eye was illuminated in high resolution by the flickering flames, the uneven stitch markings making it appear as if he’d lost his entire eye and had been given a new one. It looked like a butcher sewed him together. As far as she knew, the medical field hadn’t figured out yet how to successfully transplant eyes, so that couldn’t have been what happened.
Light from the lantern filled the cabin in a soft glow and Sas turned to grab another log.
“Uh, Sas. She’s awake.”
At Timber’s observation, her mountain man rose and strode to the bed. Without a word, he felt her forehead, then her cheek. It took all her willpower not to turn her face into his palm. She was that glad to see him.
“I should have come back and added more wood.”
She shook her head, and he pulled his hand away. “Were you gone that long? I fell asleep just as D’Artagnan fought with the three musketeers for the first time. I don’t think I made it very far.”
Sas turned away, strode back to the stove to add yet another log. “We were gone three hours.”
Timber tapped Sas on the arm. “Hey, don’t cook us. It’s not that cold in here. Right, Angel?”
It took her a moment before she realized the older man spoke to her. “No, it’s not that cold. It’s just cool. I’m fine.”
Sas shook his head, but didn’t say anything.
Now why did she have the feeling he was beating himself up over the temperature in the room. “After all, how cold could it get in here? You two were out there.”
Timber had just hung his coat on a hook when he turned and shook his head at her.
She clamped her mouth shut.
But it was too late. Her mountain man practically growled. “It’s ten degrees outside.”
Shoot. He’d been so good to her, she didn’t want him to be upset. “Hey, it might be cool in here, but I’m toasty warm under this quilt. I’d say you came back at the perfect time. So how did the wood-cutting go?” She stared at Sas’ back but he kept his focus on the fire in the stove.
“We made more progress than
I expected.” Timber sat on the couch. “I got all the trees down he wanted and even started cutting some up while he chopped. You two will be plenty warm this winter once he gets it all stacked.”
Winter? She wouldn’t be here all winter, but that was a discussion she’d have with her mountain man in private, preferably when he wasn’t angry with himself. “It sounds like you got a lot more done than I did.”
She looked to her right where the book had fallen when she fell asleep. A small scrap of very yellowed paper had slipped out from between the pages. It looked like it had the initials V.F. written on it. There were some other words, but they were too faded to read.
“Were you reading?” Timber picked up the book.
She looked up at the older man. “Yes, but I guess there weren’t enough sword fights in the story to keep me awake.”
He smiled fondly, as if she was his granddaughter or something, and laid the book on the end table. Then he motioned toward Sas who had just disappeared through his pantry. “He’ll get over it. Don’t worry.”
She grimaced. Her brother could be like that, beating himself up over silly mistakes. He could sulk for days. “I hope so. I’m kind of dependent on him.”
Timber walked to the couch and sat. He crossed one ankle onto his knee and lifted one arm to rest on the back of one of the two cushions still there. “Oh, he’ll take great care of you. You should have seen him the day I got pinned under my own tree.”
Her mood lightened immediately. “That sounds like a story I want to hear.”
Timber wiggled his bushy gray eyebrows. “Then you’re in luck. Everyone in a sixty-mile radius has already heard it, so I’m happy to oblige. I was taking down a bunch of trees near the stream by my cabin a few winters back. I thought I’d expand my garden in the spring. I figured the closer to the stream my plants were, the easier it would be to water them.”
She nodded. “That makes sense.”
“Exactly.” He beamed. “I had started clearing the trees when one knotty old pine got hung up in a spruce tree. That’s a particularly dangerous situation all ‘round.”